


Praying for a Sinner

by fauxsavior



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fist Fights, Homophobia, I'll add more as I go along, M/M, Michael is struggling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, michael gets into a lot of trouble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxsavior/pseuds/fauxsavior
Summary: 3:43 AM: i'm tired3:43 AM: i wish i was in your arms3:44 AM: i'm so sorryi hold the thoughts of my lover close to my heart, vodka running down flesh.i could almost get drunk off of the fumes.i could almost get high off of the memory.( purposefully lowercase )





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
                                                                                **Part One         :         Michael Langdon**  
  
  
        and somehow it felt like a kiss. maybe it was because that like a kiss, my stomach got butterflies; pink hues spread across my cheeks and neck. like a kiss, my skin crawled and eyes fluttered. but that's where the similarities seemed to end, because unlike a kiss, where lips move together and hands tangle gently into hair     -     i spit blood from my mouth and i throw another punch, knuckles aching with the impact.   
  
         i know this dance; these bony kisses, i know how this will end, time and time again i've see it played before me. the voices ring my praise throughout the courtyard, their screams only fuel my fire. their voices are out of focus, white noise on a screen of static. i can only focus on the sound my hands make with blunt force, its deafening. it's delicious, even so. the thought of the fact that, if i wanted to, i could end this boy's life with a flick of my fingers. but that wasn't fun.  
  
         my body lifts in mere moments, and for a second, i can barely recognize my own hands. they're torn up and below me, a body lays covered in blood. crimson and full bodied, something inside of me lurches.   
  
          why do i do this? rage like a veil, casted across my face; conceals my eyes to the truth and i can do is engage. and engage. and _fight_. it's in these bitten rages that my regret washes me after.   
 

              -

 

                 "mr. langdon, you do understand why this is unacceptable, yes?"

 

                 how many times did he have to repeat himself? i can't tell you. the fire that scorches hotly in my stomach, spreads evenly to my chest, my neck, my cheeks. it's almost all too overwhelming, the burning. until i finally can feel it; warm wetness that slides down my cheeks in streaks. i'm crying. how long have i been crying? i can't remember starting. the man's voice is white noise behind my thoughts. _how long have i been crying?_

                  "michael do you understand what i'm saying?"  
  
                  my throat feels raw, the full extent of my pain is settling in and it's dizzying.  
  
                  "w-what?" i manage.  
  
                  "michael, we called your grandmother. she's going to be picking you up."  
  
                  words like razor blades drag down my spine, the effect of them hits me like a ton of bricks. grandma... grandma. panic seizes my chest, and i'm on my feet in an instant, my tears coming quicker now. "no. no, no no no. no, sir _please_." my voice doesn't sound like mine. it sounds broken, raw. as if someone stole my voice, and was making a poor approximation of me. "michael-" "no, please" i beg "please i won't do it again."  


                   the room falls quiet, all except my own staggered breathing and choked cries. i wait, my silence a plea.

                   and all i get in return is my silence mirrored.  


 

                           -

 

                the ride home is excruciating, the air is thick and full of unsaid profanities and slaps against my cheeks, my head, my arms. i can feel her disappointment etched into the harsh lines of her face, anger that curls her upper lip. i stare forward, falsified promises hang loosely on my parted lips.   
  
_'save your apologies for someone who wants to hear them, michael'_  
  
                   the memory of her words stain me, mark me. and i do. i sit, and i wait for the storm to roll in. eyes closed, arms braced.  
  
_is this salvation?_


	2. Chapter 2

       i've never been good at apologies, especially when they're for people who i don't feel deserve them. i believe myself to be somewhat of a good man. i have my flaws, but don't we all? i've never been good at apologies, but i've always been a good liar. like a snake, forked tongue and sharp teeth, i lie with intent to hurt. i lie with my own self in mind. this is the game of survival, and i want to win.  
  
  
       but here i am. like a predator and it's prey, my eyes connect with the boy; my victim. he looks bad, and i'll be the first to admit it. face torn to shreds by the sharp edges and details of my rings. i can't help but feel a slight sense of pride, not too much unlike an artist admiring his work. an author to this boy's suffering.  
  
  
though, he wasn't how i remembered him to be. my mind saw the boy different. for he was small framed, couldn't be more than 5'3 in stature, and his cheeks were dimpled even in a pained grimace. his skin was starting to scab over from where my hit pulled   -   and under the florescent lights, his warm brown skin appeared ghostly and gaunt.  
  
  
and yet, i smile

 

           "uh, hey, man." my voice strains with the effort of attempting an aura of collected calm, i clear my throat once. i clear it twice. fuck.

 

            his eyes glance twords me with something that appears like confusion. yet, this only lasts a moment, because after that comes recollection. anger. then  _fear_. the bitter smell rolls off of him in waves, a stench like icy steel and blood - serpent's breath. the smell is something delicious, and ignites my senses. it causes an involuntary smile to fall across my cheeks. 

           "yeah, you, the one with the _skull shaped bruise_ on your _cheek_. i just wanted you to know, uh-"  
                     

                                 the words were choked on the way out, barely able to get past my lips, teeth grit, voice far away from me. _why is this so fuckin' hard?_

 

              "'m sorry. i didn't mean to take my anger out on you like that, man."

                       

                the air was choked with silence, but possibly the worst kind. it was a loaded silence, packed with unspoken words and feelings untold, feelings that i couldn't detect. maybe it was my turn to feel fear. 

                these were the kind of silences i knew all too well. the ones that were calm before the storm, quiet before the deafening crack of thunder.

                and his voice sounded like soft rain, fleeting and throaty

                "uh... yeah, well. uh, my mother? she, well   -    _she wants to press charges_. wants to make it a race thing, among others. says that because of you, i might not be able to go ivy league..."

                 an instant wave of shock runs thru me, like bolts of lightning rippling through my body. _press charges? press fucking charges?_ i try to make sense of his words, but my mind feels full, processing everything at a snails pace. i can only thing of my grandmother. i can only think of her anger, what she might say, let alone do. my throat is stuffed with cotton, and my lungs are filled to the brim with anxieties. _press charges.  
  
_                 " _woahhhh_ , hey there, hey now. none of that, what do i   -   fuck, what do i have to do? man, i can't deal with the _legal_ system. just _tell me what i need to do._ " the desperation in my voice hides no secrets, let alone the weakness i felt in that moment. the guilt, the shame, the fear.   
  
                 his eyes look curiously at the book balanced on his knee, ( from where i can see, it appears to be some sort of textbook. _calculus_. ) before his deep brown eyes fix on me. 

 

                and my mouth was already dry.  
  
                "are you passing calc?"  
                 "uhm, excuse me?"  
                  " _i said_ , are you passing calc?"

            the question didn't register just as much as the first time. it fell deaf on my ears, dissolved against my acidic skin. i coughed out the truth.  
  
                   "uh, well...  _no_ "

             his reaction was instant, you could almost see the lightbulb above his head. dread settled into me.

                   "i'm going to be your mentor. you... you're going to be my community service hours. to graduate early." perhaps he could sense it in my face, or in the tightness in my shoulders, because before i could object, he cut in with a toothy grin spread across his face.

                   "and if you don't agree, i will be telling my mother to be continue perusing legal action."  
               

                     and my objections died in my throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck me ig, i finally made a chapter two uwu, anyway if you like this shit at all lmk so i can get some motivation to write more.


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